


I Can't Feel My Face

by StarkWhiteSilence



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Drug-Induced Sex, Exhibitionism, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:38:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6126331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkWhiteSilence/pseuds/StarkWhiteSilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kagami loves his job as a tax auditor, but after being assigned to a mysterious man named Aomine Daiki, he begins to second guess his career choice. Spiraling into the world of sex, drugs and backwards financing, Kagami can only hold onto his instincts and not give into this blue haired devil.</p><p>Stranger Than Fiction Au</p><p>[Haitus! I have lately been slammed with work and school and... that's it, that's my life. SO I will be focusing on finishing Yes, Mr. Smith and will come back to this later! I love you all, don't hate me too much.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Feel My Face

**Author's Note:**

> Damn Lauren, back at it again with your gay BULLSHIT. 
> 
> Beta'd by my friend Toni so any mistakes are hers only and it is in no way my fault. Comment mistakes!
> 
> Rating will go up in future chapters when the tags begin to be of use ;)
> 
> I'm so sorry. I wrote this on a whim after watching Stranger Than Fiction with Will Ferrell in my Creative Writing course. 
> 
> IF YOU WOULD LIKE ME TO CONTINUE COMMENt/KUDOS I GUESS

I step through the elevators on my godforsaken floor, “Hey, Kagami! Nice tie. Where’d you get it?” He asked squinting behind his wire-framed glasses. I glanced down at the simple red and black striped tie, perplexed. He never compliments me.

“This one? I’ve worn it to work before,” I pause and look into his eyes only to be met with a faux expression. I peer into his eyes, “...but thank you I guess. I’ve had it for years, there is no way in hell I remember where I got it.”

Hyuga chuckles and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly with a shrug, “Sorry, it looked new.” Something about his overeager attempt at conversation rubbed me wrong. I give him a nod and quickly walk over to my open cubical.

The desk was slightly messy, a few stacks of papers and miscellaneous objects littering the white surface. I place the simple leather briefcase next to my desk and boot my computer before walking straight for the break room, the smell of coffee nearly making me float. But, before I can even take two steps in the direction of my happiness, a gut wrenching sound shatters the silence.

Aida’s voice calls from her office somewhere near the back of the open room, the noise making my blood run cold. “Is Kagami here yet?”

Oh god.  

Frantically my eyes shoot to Hyuga standing at his cubicle a few feet from me, my hand making a slicing motion at my neck, my head shaking _‘no’_. The man’s eyebrows furrow in confusion before a slow smile crosses his face.

“Yeah!” The spectacled satan yells, his nefarious grin ever present on his face. “He just walked in with a snazzy new tie.” My mouth falls open as his smile grows even more sinister.

“Great, send him to me.” My hands clench as I stomp past him.

“Fuck you, you four-eyed bastard.”

His chuckle follows me into the office, “Anytime, princess.”

* * *

 

The fat smack of the manilla folder hitting the table causing me to jolt. Aida stands behind her desk, her small hands clenched against her hips looking far more imposing than her 5’1 slender frame.

“Aomine Daiki, 28, owner of a popular club downtown.” She begins without preamble as I lean forward and snatch the case off the smooth glass surface. “He didn’t pay nearly 40% of his taxes and we’ve sent four other agents out only to have them come back empty handed. And the phone we have him down for is wrong. We tried calling the club phone number and kept redirected to a chinese food restaurant. So, I thought you could go,” She pauses, her hands waving in an inaudible search for words, “I don’t know, growl at him or something.”

I sit back in my chair and flip slowly through the papers, “How can he owe that much money and not be arrested?” I asked, flummoxed. He was pushing nearly fifty grand, well over the national limit of back tax. The IRS doesn’t play around with that much money.

Aida shrugs, already looking bored with the conversation, “I don’t know. I pushed for a warrant but they denied it every time. You know those lazy bastards only move when it’s convenient for them.” I nod in apprehension. I look over the file again, silently noting the lack of a photo under the man’s name. After a moment, I shut the impressively substantial folder before looking up with a shit-eating simper.

“So I get to growl?”

 

* * *

 

 

The sunny calm street in the middle of Chicago, cool and crisp air much unlike a usual noon in the middle of May seemed too happy for the usually dreary city. The sound of the city-life fills the streets familiarly. I bitterly look down at my suit and dress shoes in the sixty degree weather. _I could be out playing ball right now._

I glance back down at the folder in my hand, the information about Aomine infuriatingly scarce. The case file gives me a street name that I recognize to be downtown. It also gives me the name of the club, but no specific address to go with it. I glance back down at the papers in my hand before looking back up at the bold lettering on the building. Curvaceous, almost sensual blue font loops to spell the club name, “Maindo”. Rusty on my japanese ever since I returned to America left me wracking my brain for the meaning before I remember it’s the japanese spelling of “mind”.

A large, wooden door that look severely out of place in the metallic city was directly under the sign. As I approached, I note the intricate carving in the doors, the patterns and swirls greatly resembling flowers. I approach slowly before sliding the file under my arm and raising the other arm to give the doors three sharp knocks. I wait a few moments before doing it again with no answer.

I suspire and raise my hand to knock once more before abruptly, the door is jerked opened, a tall angry looking blonde with short clipped hair looms in the larger doorway.

“We open at nine pm,” He clips out before moving to shut the door. My hand flies out and smacks on the wood to stop it closing decent, the sharp sting resonating up my arm.

“I’m here for Aomine Daiki.” I say, my voice even despite the annoyance boiling just below the surface. The brute edges the door open a few inches and I charge on, “I cannot disclose the manners of his case, but I’m with the IRS and I won’t be leaving until I speak with him.” I say tight lipped. I could feel that growl I was told specifically not to use slip into my tone. My therapist always said count to ten when you’re reaching a breaking point of frustration.

The door is opened completely once more, the blonde stepping forward and crossing his thick arms. “Sorry, no can do,” He says with a light hearted shrug. “We’re still setting up for the night so if you want in the club, wait until tonight when we open our doors. Or make an appointment with his assistant and--”

I hold up my hand and shake my head, the red trimmed hair bouncing with the movement. “No, I understand that but I am an employee of the government. If I go back and say that he refused to see me, he could be facing legal charges, fines, and warrants among other federal actions.” I was used to people skating out of seeing me. Actually, I’d have to wait about three weeks before I could file for legal actions but usually a few well placed threats gets them working a bit faster. Not to mention this guy has been avoiding IRS agents for months.

The man in front of me flashes me a smile and in no way is it friendly, “Aomine doesn’t need to speak with you directly. His assistant handles all of his finances. You can speak with her about this.”

I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I knew what I was signing up for when I decided to work for the IRS. We had to take monthly classes on how to handle uncooperative people and to channel our anger and frustration positively. The main thing they said to do is threaten legal action and keep a calm tone. _I need to keep a calm tone._

“Alright, where is his assistant?” I ask, my voice still calm and pleasant-ish. _Gotta be nice, Kagami, gotta be nice._

The man’s eyes seem to glint, like the bastard was enjoying the fact I was reaching a point of no return. His shockingly light blonde hair cropped short aided his already brutish appearance only furthering my bitter resentment. His chest was broad and his face was all smooth planes of masculinity. His nose had a small bump on the bridge hinting to a past break and his strong jaw held a pale silver scar like a badge of honor.

“Momoi stepped out and she’ll be back later. We’ll give you call.” He goes to shut the door just as my severely unprepared foot shoots outs to wedge between the door jam and the door itself.

I quip through gritted teeth my calm voice facade slipping, “Well, if you said she just stepped out, I have enough time to wait for her.”  

The bouncer’s eyes slit into a glare through the crack of the door as he doesn’t relinquish my foot from it’s current placement as a makeshift door wedge.

Calmly, he states, “If you remove your foot and come back when we call you, I won’t use force. Alright, buddy?” His voice dangerously deep betrays his umbrage. _Too bad I’m too pissed to care._

“No, you listen _buddy_ ,” I spit, “I have a job. And that job is to audit Aomine Daiki, and quite frankly, my job is a bit more important than you playing doorkeeper. So how about you _open this goddamn doo_ r and take me to this fucking asshole, and we’ll be fucking _peachy_ ?” I snarl, my face a mask of pure animosity. Alright, shit. One of the main rules they teach us in those monthy fuciking hell holes is to not cuss at the people. Or raise our voice. _I just did fucking both._

The man's eyes go ablaze as the door is yanked open. I know when someone is about to start a fight, and if his clenched fists are any indication, the snarl on his lips surely are. I step back, the dull throb in my foot forgotten as I widen my stance and prepare to receive a punch. The blonde's fist is raised when a voice barks from the open door space he just stepped from.

“Why the fuck is the door open?”

The angry blonde advancing towards me stops suddenly, all the color in his face fading. Confused, I look over his shoulder towards the voi--

 _Holy shit_.

Tall, lean, tanned muscle meets my unexpecting eyes. A man’s face is the poster child for the emotion annoyance and I offhandedly notice the fact he’s nearly fucking naked. The man slouches casually in the doorway, his arms folded over his smooth, dark chest. A shock of royal blue hair cropped short sticks up at crazy angles above a sharp irritated face. The shirtless chest is bare save for a trail of dark hair leading seductively into the waistband of his flared, detailed pants. I’m tall, drastically so, but this man stood a good four or five inches over me, all muscle and tantalizing tan skin.

The blonde asshole turns quickly, his face considerably pale compared to the red anger it was moments ago.

The man’s eyes narrow, the potently angry gaze zeroing in on me. “Considering I wasn’t graced with the ability to read minds, you two standing there silent like fucking dipshits isn’t going to answer my goddamn question.”

I step away from the blonde, my arms crossing, mimicking the tan man’s relaxed stance. “Look, I’m just here to talk to an Aomine Daiki. This fucking ass--”

The man cuts me off, “Why do you need to talk to Aomine? Pigs aren’t welcome here.”

I balk at the term. I’m in no way a goddamn “pig” but I discern what he actually means. “I’m not the police,” I say slowly, my eyebrows raised.  “I’m from the IRS. Aomine skipped out on a healthy portion of his taxes last year and I’m here to issue an official audit.”

The man’s eyebrows furrow, his expression the definition of confused. That is until a spark of realization slides into place, his eyes flying back to angry and his mouth snarled.

“Momoi.” He spat, his fist clenching. I raise an eyebrow and shoot a bewildered look over at the big blonde oaf currently looking just as confused. The blonde had mentioned that name too.

“Kosuke.” The blue haired man seethes, his face enraged. “Where the fuck is Momoi?”

The blonde -Kosuke I guess- scrunches his face. “She left with Katsunori somewhere, she said she’d be back before opening.” The man whom, much to my painful acknowledgment, is still clad in loose low-riding drop crotched [ afghani ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4ifSSg1HAo) pants shakes his head.

“Get her on the pho-”

Having enough of this shit and taking a step pass Kosuke with a look of annoyance, I move to address the man in front of me and snap, “Look. Sorry to burst any bubbles, but I still need to do my job. And I’m not leaving until I either speak with Aomine, or until I get access to his financial files of the past three years.”

A guttural gasp sounds behind me. With a bored expression, I glance over my shoulder at the furious blonde.

“You can’t just come in here and demand shit! I’ll fuck-”

“Kosuke!” Shit, that voice is deep. I mean, yeah the dude’s tall and all but shit who the fuck even can embody a voice that low. I turn back around and build up my body, seemingly making myself taller. Or at least trying.

Not put off in the least, I reply in a infuriatingly stultified tone as possible, “So what’s it gonna be? Because I don’t get one of those two things by,” I glance at my watch, ”nine tonight, than I am going to have to issue a warrant for either his information or his presence in court.” The man’s face, if at all possible, gets even more livid. I spread my hands and shrug in a ‘no can do’ manner just to push. A sharp blue eyebrow, pierced with a small gold hoop now that I focus on it, twitches and I’m taken once again by just how beautiful this man actually is. His face is intense, his eyes a stark blue just as striking as his hair. I was openly bi but fuck if I wouldn’t wife this man up in a second. The only downside to the guy was his person-

Those plump lips move, “Fuck off.”

I blink for moment before it settles in my head. “What?’

“I said, fuck off. I don’t need some fucking tax bitch sniffing around here. Come back some other day, I don’t have time for this shit. I’ll let Aomine know you fucking stopped by.” With that, the door slams shut leaving an angry me and a startled blonde.

Clenching my fist and gritting my teeth, my eyes fly to the other man. His face is still shocked, his mouth slightly open and his eyes severely perplexed. My voice leveled with barely restrained violence, “I’m going in there whether I’m invited or not. Do you know where they keep their financial files?”

Quickly, his mouth snaps shut before a meaty hand reaches up to scratch the back of his head. “Well, Momoi keeps a bunch of files in the open office? You can probably try there. But I’m not about to get neck deep in shit for you.”

“Alright, tell me where the fuck it is and I’ll look for myself,” I say respecting the oaf’s self protection.

The man puts a hand on his hip and a hand on his forehead with a sigh, “Fuck. I’ll go get Aom- er the guy you were just talking to and ask just… follow me. But if all goes to hell, I’m telling him you threatened me with a warrant or some shit.” And with that, he steps past me and I follow him into Maindo.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: Superkuroshitsuji  
> Instagram: YoaiIsGodly
> 
> comment/kudos if you didn't hate it


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